Prodigal Son
by Val'istar En' Alu
Summary: They were the best of friends, regretfully time and distance would utlimatly tear them appart...until the son in exial is forced to return home. B/S
1. Prologue

Title: Prodigal Son Disclaimer: Okay... I must admit I own NOTHING! Ya hear that Joss.NOTHING! All characters belong to you and Mutant Enemy I'd just thought I'd play with them for a bit cuz I'm bored and you killed spike!  
  
Notes: reviews are appreciated, this is my first posting on Fanfic so I need some constructive info here.I've had this idea for a long time now however I've had a butt load of trouble acquiring an account on Fanfic so now that I finally have one let the games begin!  
  
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He came back a stranger. No more was he the bashful modest youth in awkward glasses and mangy hair. Insecure with a plentiful supply of acne he was special. Not in the "I'm a retard" special Ed sort of way, the boy was clearly gifted with a brilliant mind and a gentle spirit. Back then he was delicate, small and made for easy prey. The butt of most jokes he was on quite intimate terms with every bully in the school. Still he had friends, four to be exact. Xander and Oz, two scrawny boys like himself only higher on the cool scale; also, Buffy and Willow, two sweet girls each endowed with their own brand of innocent beauty. Though he wasn't athletic, had a runny nose and loved to write poetry, Buffy had always adored him and he her. She loved his intense blue eyes and meekness while her cherished her smile and vitality. They grew close.best friends to be exact until one day in the 7th grade he went away. His father had sent him to England to study at an elite academy. For a time they would exchange letters, yet around a year later they just stopped coming. She continued to write yet she never heard back. Neither his older sister nor his father could provide her with an explanation as they too had been shut out. A year passed, silence, a year passed, empty, a year passed, nothing. The girl turned women grew up; moved on, forgot, fell in love. Popularity found her in high school; a cheerleader who dated the football star and ex bully. Still, she was never to hip to hang out with Xander and Willow. Life was perfect junior year, yet these things rarely last forever; the peaceful uneventfulness of Sunnydale soon to be shattered as the winds returned the son from his exile; broken, estranged, and bitter at the world. 


	2. The Winds Change

The Prodigal Son

Chapter one: _The Winds Change_

I own nothing blah blah blah… okay on with the story

            A bright, crisp November day, Saturday the 24th to be precise, it was nothing special.  Indeed, nothing out of the ordinary, it proved to be quite a routine day for one Rupert Giles, of Sunnydale California. Routine was something in which he took great comfort these days, no surprises just the ordinary humdrum is a much hoped for relief, as anyone who works in close proximity with teenagers will agree. Yet, this day had one secret, one trick to play on the unsuspecting librarian, a phone call. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Giles had sequestered himself in his study for a day of translating and categorizing a dozen or so of his newly acquired Etruscan parchments and tablets, most dating back around the 4th century B.C. In fact, so engrossed was he in his academic toil, that he barely registered that the desk phone was ringing incessantly demanding that he answer it. Regretfully, he tore his gaze from his labor of love and glanced at the clock, 8:45 it read. 

'hmm I should answer, it might be Buffy. She might need some help with a new kind of demon or something or other. So much for my uneventful day' he sighed, raised his hand and answered the phone.

"Hello"

"Rupert old boy! How've you been managing up in Sunnydale?"

Giles blinked. Hearing the voice of Quinton Travers on the other end was not what he had expected.

"Rupert…Giles you still there old boy?"

"Ahem yes… yes Quinton I'm here, didn't expect I'd be hearing from you anytime soon…actually I never expected to hear from you." 

" Come now Rupert can't a chap look in on an old friend once in a while?"

Quinton was never a man to beat about the bush with pleasantries nor was he one to stall, something must be brewing back in merry old England or else he wouldn't have taken the time to personally call. 

" Oh undoubtedly, however, in your case I'd say no. Either you've gone daft, your drunk (especially to be calling at 4:45am London time) or you've got some trouble to dump on Buffy and I, and knowing you as I do 'old friend' I'd settle on the latter. So out with it and no games today please Quinton."

Quinton sighed "Well Rupert your right…and your wrong." 

Silence.

Giles was about to prod him to explain his latest riddle when Quinton finally spoke again.

"Yes, in a manor of speaking I have good news, however…I'm sure this good news will cause you a great deal of trouble and vexation if I dare say and…" 

Impatient Giles cut him off. "Will you get to the bloody point man!" 

Quinton heaved another sigh. " Rupert he's coming back"

Immediately Giles' mind kicked into red alert. "What! Who Quinton? Who is coming back? Is it Doyle? Is it…" 

"It's William, Rupert" 

"William?!" 

"Yes William…_your_ son William."

" I haven't forgotten my own son Quinton…It's just…unforeseen. He wasn't due to return home till June of next year, that is if he wasn't attending University there…" He trailed off.

Silence hung between them for several seconds or perhaps it was minutes, he couldn't tell. 

"Quinton…"

 He spoke slowly, fearful of the forthcoming response. His gut clenched, his hands poured sweat, his study seem to shrink and blur as it closed in around him. Every sound, every whisper, every vibration magnified ten fold. His heart thundered in his chest, his every breath his lungs drew was a tempest as he awaited news that his instincts insisted could be nothing but horrendous. 

"…what happened." 

"I am sorry Rupert, but I must regretfully inform you that William Randal Giles has been expelled from St. George's Academy and Conservatory of the Arts."

"Wha…what! How could…I mean… why…BLOODY HELL!" Giles was flabbergasted beyond coherent thought. It just wasn't plausible; his William would never…

"Calm down Rupert"

"I am calm dammit! How in God's name did this happen Quinton!"

" Rupert this is an issue of a sensitive nature and I will only briefly touch upon it tonight as that was not my purpose in calling. I rang you up tonight to inform you that early tomorrow you will receive you son's effects, in addition to a copy of his academic record and transcripts…And that International flight 101 flying non-stop from England will be carrying your son. Its arrival time is 6:15pm at gate E on the North Satellite."

" Oh Lord… I suppose I'll have to arrange for him to finish out his junior year at Sunnydale High, or at least until I can find a suitable replacement for St. George…"

" Rupert I'll contact you on Monday and we can discuss everything."

"Oh, yes of course…was there a hearing of the Academic Board regarding the circumstances of his expulsion." 

"Uhmm…No, there was no hearing by the Board, no Dean reviewed his case I handled it personally myself…as I mentioned the situation is sensitive, everything was done quietly and quickly. Rupert go slow with the lad when he arrives…what I mean to say is that its been a little over 4 years now and, well, to be frank with you he doesn't want to go back."

"Oh…I see" By now Giles was furiously cleaning his classes.

"Listen he needs a father right now, he needs you Rupert but I can guarantee he won't be willing. I can also guarantee he's not the same boy you sent to my Academy."

" Well yes, that was the dashed point now wasn't it, for him to grow and mature in ways he never could in the restrictive public school environment he was in."

" All I ask is that you're prepared. Did you catch all the flight info?"

"Yes, yes, International 101 6:15 gate E North Satellite."

" Right then, I'll ring you up on Monday evening a give you all the gory details."

"Goodnight Quinton."

"Goodnight Rupert."

Yet, for Rupert Giles the night would be a whirl of phone calls and arrangements. Dear Lord a son whom he had barely spoken to in years was arriving home tomorrow oh what to do.

~ ~ ~ ~

Quinton Travers hung up his phone.

" So you're fix'n ta tell him everything then mate." 

The Speaker was a young man garbed head to toe in black; most would think him gothic except for his sharply contrasting platinum head. Quinton swiveled his chair to gaze at his smirking audience member.

"In regards to your little fall from grace, yes, I will tell him everything…after all he is your father he does deserve to know the truth." 

The boy just rolled his eyes in disdain. " Hardly…look if you mean to tell him what I know…"

"No, that is for _you_ to tell him when…" Noticing the boy's glare amended "or if you choose; however, watch your back over there. It may still seem to be that sleepy town from your past, but Sunnydale is no mere town; it has a dangerous undertow and I would hate for you to be sucked in."

The boy gave a silent nod of agreement.

"Well" he said rising from his chair " I won't keep you…may we meet again and in different circumstances."

"Perhaps, if I can escape this Hell hole your sending me to."

Now it was Quinton's turn to glare

"I'm sending you home, remember that."

" Yeah whatever mate." And with that the youth turned on his heal and exited.

 Quinton reclined once more in his chair. Rupert was going to receive the shock of his life tomorrow.

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Okay that's chapter one, oh and just to drop a hint St. George's is run by the Watchers Council and it is where Giles and Quinton attended, met and where subsequently recruited by the Council…..Everyone is human except Buffy is still the slayer and obviously Giles her watcher. London time is about 8 hrs ahead of LA time


	3. A Storm Blows In

The Prodigal Son 

Notes: This chapter I had originally planned to have after my prologue but I felt I needed to set up the reasons behind Spike's homecoming originally and to see Giles reaction to the news. Plus, I thought it would be fun to inject a bit of intrigue into the story as well. As always reviews are greatly appreciated! If I suck please tell me so I can fix my suckage if ya get my drift. I will apologize in advance as I've just started school but I'll make a great effort to update on the weekends…of course reviews always warm the cockles my heart and warm cockles make me write faster…*hint hint*

I own nothing….yet….watch out Joss I'm coming for you, you won't know where or when but I'll get them *hehehehe* 

Okay in my dreams….on with the show

Chapter 2: A Storm Blows In 

            Anxiety coursed through him, flooding his veins with adrenalin resulting in the nervous energy that now captivated his twitching body.  His legs bounced up then down in rapid succession; upon the floor lay the remains of his black nail polish. Wrinkles creased his brow; wound tighter then a top he was on the verge of literally exploding. 

            Breathing deeply to the point of hyperventilation he attempted to combat the rage welling inside of him which was a Herculean feat in and of its self; especially, with those naughty little voices in the back of his head prompting him to indulge acts of a more violent nature. Unfortunately, he was seated in the rear section of the aircraft; thus, making him one of the last passengers to debark.

            To make matters worse he was unable to indulge in the sweet forgetful oblivion that is sleep because luck of all luck his seat was next to the rear jet. Oh yes, he was cranky, irritated, sleep deprived, possibly homicidal, and bloody well pissed off! Minutes passed and still he was confined to his seat. Shifting once more he drew a last claming breath.

 "Why the hell are you nervous" his mind berated his body. " Why the hell do you care! A little trip down memory lane shouldn't have your knickers in a twist mate"

            God what he wouldn't do for a pack of smokes right now! He'd sworn he would never come back, that he would never return to this God forsaken town. There was too much pain here; there were too many memories, memories that for the past two or so years he had managed to blot from his active conscience. 

             Time and distance had made them impotent, yet being here, just on the bloody airplane knowing that in a moments time he would be back standing on ground he had stood on many times, ground that his weaker self had trod, ground that she treads. 

             _Don't think mate, don't think, not about her_.

            He'd go crazy for sure if he did. So much was left unsaid; so much was left undone in good Ol' Sunnyhell. 

            Now free to make his escape, he took long strides down the length of the plane. His skin prickled as he neared the exit, bending his head he powered through swarms of people milling about the gate. 

            Upon lifting his head he became aware of two people, one of whom he hoped never to lay eyes on again

~~~~

            He spoke no kind word to them, uttered no cheerful greeting, offered no loving embrace. Rather, he met them with silence. Eyes hard he waited as they approached. The first move was theirs and theirs alone, he had nothing more to say in the matter.

            He took a moment to examine the persons before him; his father was the picture of the man who has sent him away all those years before. No, Rupert Giles had succeeded in his life ambition to never change. A tall man, he possessed a proud face, which peered at the world thorough plain glasses, that suspiciously required constant cleaning. Unsurprisingly, now was one of those moments.

            As Rupert struggled with forming something intelligent words which to great the column of black that was his estranged son, William or Spike as he now deemed himself, an odd nickname earned at boarding school now his chosen identity, turned his gaze upon his elder sister.

            Striking, she possessed a face similar to his own. Framed with blond hair and the keeper of two small eyes: eyes that were at any moment demanding pools of fire or ice. She was the dominant one in their relationship and her grandiose personality was about as blunt as a double-edged sword No, she was not one to mince words, he knew it was she who would speak first. 

            Indeed, time seemed to have forgotten Sunnydale. Nothing had changed; even the airport looked the same. No one had changed, his father the same tweed clad glasses wearing stuffed British librarian, his sister the popular vixen who breathed fire. 

            But he had changed, more them that he had transformed himself into the cocky, self-assured rebel without a cause bad boy that didn't give a damm about anything or anyone image that now stood before his currently speechless blood relations. 

            There was no way in hell he was going to give into his past fate as a geek, as a nobody. Things would change, they would have too; he would make them

~~~~

            Anya's salutation brought him back to reality.

" Welcome back my wayward brother. I see your fashion has not improved. I mean, if you were planning to go Goth you should've at least had the sense to dye your hair black instead of going all Billy Idol.  I mean it wasn't enough that Daddy had to spend all that money to send you way to school which you managed to get kicked out of, but you had to come back looking like an eighties reject as well. Not to mention you never wrote!"

            He couldn't help but chuckle. Nope she hadn't changed a bit. 

" 'Ello to you too sister dearest. I knew you missed me."

            Both smirked at this, not the warm smile of siblings reunited but of competitors. Giles coughed, finding that his glasses were once again in need of a good polish and a buff. There they stood his two children staring at each other and grinning madly as if they were engaged in a great battle of the wills, waiting to see who would flinch first, who would break. 

            Yet, he still couldn't find the words with which to speak to William. Quinton had warned him, but God he had never expected this! When his son stepped of the plane looking like a hooligan he had nearly dropped dead of heart failure. Standing in silence he had a chance to look the boy over, the change that had occurred was startling. But more startling then even his physical appearance was the change he saw in his son's eyes.

            They were hard when he looked into them, hard as ice and sharp as flint. When he had smiled, if you could call it that for it bore more resemblance to a sardonic smirk, at Anya's greeting turned tirade, it had never reached his eyes. _Good Lord, he was seventeen now, when he left he was only thirteen, I've missed so much and it shows_.  

            Clearing his throat once more Giles finally found his voice. 

 " Ah yes, it is good to have you back William"

            Spike broke from Anya's gaze; turning to look at Giles he cocked an eyebrow.

 " Names not William mate it's Spike"

_            God what an awful name_ he thought, Anya being Anya said it for him.

 "Spike…come on Will how lame is that, where'd you get it anyway?"

            Spike's eyes shone anger; his lips spoke anger

 " It's Spike alright! 'n it's none of your Bloody business where I got it! Got it"

  "Woah! PMSing mister, I got it _Spike_ I still think it's lame though."

            Spike merely rolled his eyes in response. Giles however, was looking on mortified at his son's language.

 " So you get my things"

"wha..oh yes, you effects are in your old room, I suppose we should get back so you can get settled in. Tomorrow you will start school with Anya."

" Bloody lovely"

" Hey it's not like I want all my friends to see what a freak you've become"

"Enough! Both of you!" 

            He would not have this constant bickering any longer.

" I expected more from both of you really this is quite petty. I know the situation is not ideal but we need to suck it up and make the best of it. Anya you are not to speak to Willi…" 

            Spike glared at him

 "…Spike that way, there are far more important things to discuss besides his choice of attire. Spike I will not have you speaking in such a manor in my presence….and  now with that's said… lets go home." 

            Clap, clap, clap Spike's hands gave a mocking applause.

 "About time, we've been standing here for God knows how long." 

            And so they made their way through the airport. Anya in the lead followed closely by Spike, Giles glumly brought up the rear. The car ride home was deathly silent, so much so that his own inhaling and exhaling seemed deafening. _At least they're not interrogating me about what happened_.  The last thing he wanted was Giles and especially Anya asking nosy questions about him.

~~~~

            After unpacking he just stood in the middle of his old habitat and remembering. It was a simple room, white walls, a few windows, blue carpeting with a bedspread to match. Oh how his skin crawled to be there, for if he stood there long enough he could almost imagine he was thirteen again. What a ponce he was then. First thing he did was to dispose of he old memorabilia and pictures; he had no need for them now.  Softly he heard a knock upon his door. It creaked with opening and in stepped his father.

" Settled in all right are you?"

            He received a nod.

" Ah well I suppose you'll be wanting to retire…"

            Not knowing what else to say Giles trailed off into silence.

            Spike was starting to get annoyed with his father's lack of articulate speech.

"Right…well as much as I have enjoyed standing in silence with you it would be awfully nice if you vacated the premise of my room mate."  

            There was no way Giles would let Spike indulge in his insolence. He had to put his foot down, something he had never done with his son; he simply didn't have to. The William of the past was so compliant. Spike on the other hand needed to be reminded of his place. And Giles was determined to remind him.  

"I am not your mate…I don't know all the details of your expulsion and I'm not going to push the matter with you _yet_. Quinton Travers will contact me tomorrow evening to discuss the matter after which you and I will have a little chat. As for school you will be on your best behavior and if I hear otherwise the consequences will be dire. Are we clear on that?" 

            Spike merely grinned

 "Sure thing Rupes….now if you don't mind" 

            He slowly advanced toward Giles backing him into the hall. Giles made a last attempt to assert his authority.

 " I am not Rupes, I am your father. You may not like me right now but I think I am intitled to a little respect from you."

"Goodnight Rupert"

            His face cold as he shut the door in his father's face. On the other side Giles was crestfallen but nothing of the sort leaked from underneath his Englishmen's' reserve.

~~~~

            He found quickly that sleep refused to come to him. So many thoughts, so many feeling were surging through his mind. He paced, he smoked, he sweated, and he paced some more. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth: his thoughts continually hounding him.

            No matter how hard he tried, how hard he willed himself to be still his body refused to obey. A quick glance a clock told him it was 1:45 Monday morning. 

            Dammit, Dammit all to Hell! Why did Travers have to send me back Damm him anyway. Damm Rupert for sending me away! Damm Druscilla for being a ho and leaving me! Damm Liam, great wanker. Damm her for being so bloody perfect! 

            His mind screamed what his mouth could not. God he was really messed if he couldn't say her name. For so long he had buried her, pushed her down, trained himself never to speak of her. He growled in frustration. 

 " Screw this I'm outta here." 

            Going to his closet he pulled out a black hooded sweatshirt. Throwing it on his naked torso he neglected to zip it up leaving his chest mostly exposed. He was already clad in a pair of loose fitting black drawstring pajama pants; pulling his hood over his head, he shoved his bare feet into his combat boots, grabbed a pack of smokes and his lighter. 

            Hosting his window open he quickly descended into the night. Luckily, his room was the only one on the first floor. Walking with no destination in mind, he followed his feet through the deserted town. He went up streets, down alleys, and through graveyards and cemeteries until finally with a lit cigarette in hand his feet ceased to walk.

            As Irony would have it he stood outside the cause of his most potent and beguiling vexation. It was her house.  He could see her room from where he stood; expectedly the light was out. _Having sweet dreams no doubt, and blissfully unaware of my presence beneath your very window._

" I'll be seeing you….Buffy Summers. I'll be seeing you." 

            He whispered to the night air.

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Wow…that was long very long very very long. Okay remember if you thought this sucked please tell me…constructively. And if you liked it please, please tell me!  

Thanks for reading! Bye for now….I should update Saturday….optimistically however that might not happen….I promise I'll try my darnedest though. 


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